


Sleeping in Leaves

by BoPeepWithNoSheep



Series: The Forest for the Trees [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Academy life, DOS recursive fanfic, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Konohamaru Corps, Past Child Abuse, Self-Insert, Shimura Clan Politics, Shimura Danzo as an actual bastard, Shimura Danzo as an actual human being, Silver Queen's Dreaming of Sunshine Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-01-23 23:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12518584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoPeepWithNoSheep/pseuds/BoPeepWithNoSheep
Summary: Being reborn is a traumatizing experience, nobody could blame me for crying when I realized I was being held by Shimura Danzo.





	1. Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dreaming of Sunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/53648) by Silver Queen. 



> This fic is directly inspired by, and takes place loosely in the universe of Silver Queen's amazing fanfic Dreaming of Sunshine.

I think there’s a certain expectation of reincarnation that most people have, that if it existed good people would be reincarnated into good situations and bad people would be reincarnated into bad situations. A dying doctor would become a baby again with a clean slate and a new chance at life, a dying murderer would become a slug or an ant, ready to be squished under someone’s shoe or set on fire by some kid with a magnifying glass and a future affinity for arson.

I believe I’m a good person, or I was before I died, so I didn't really understand what I did to deserve the new life I got. It’s hard to complain about it, the chance to live again when I didn’t even really get to the first time. Still, when I first realized where was I think I would have been happier as an ant. At first I thought it was some kind of hallucinatory dying dream, aneurysms could do weird things to your brain. It wouldn’t have surprised me if one of those weird things was slowly coming into consciousness to realize I was an infant and not only was I aware of my surroundings but I recognized the person who cradled me closely in a loose, one armed grip.

Nobody could blame me for crying when I realized I was being held by Shimura Danzo.

 

* * *

 

The Shimura clan was larger than canon would have led one to believe, with just the ominous figure of Danzo as it’s most prominent figure. He _was_ a prominent figure, that couldn’t be denied, acting as clan head in the stead of his late sister and I was, evidently, his heir as his only living grandchild. My mother, named Takeko, Danzo’s daughter and previous heir had apparently passed away with my birth. My father was a clanless shinobi who had been adopted into the clan when they’d married, a marriage Danzo hadn’t approved of if his first act as clan head after my birth was any indication.

Stealing custody away from a child’s parent before their dead spouse's body had cooled seemed like a low blow to me. I made my complaints known through piteous cries as I was placed in the care of one my second cousins, Shimura Chiyome. However, it turned out such practices weren’t entirely uncommon among clans, especially in the case of heirs. Still, it was better than the thought of Danzo himself taking custody of me while I was still so small and defenseless. He was decent enough to allow my father visitation rights, or at least that was what Chiyome’s sister and my secondary caretaker, Chiyojo, called it behind her hand when he made the announcement.

He would oversee my training once I reached the age of two, or whenever I started walking and talking if those things came early. I made a promise to myself that I would be a quiet, disappointing child.

 

* * *

 

The first time I met Sarutobi Konohamaru when I was physically one year old to his two. My first thought, as I stared wide eyed at the second canon character I’d ever met, was that his hair and eyes _really_ made him look like a tiny angry pineapple. My second thought was how nice it was to see a familiar face, it helped me figure out exactly when I came to exist within canon and for once the newly obtained knowledge was a comfort. I wasn’t going to be tangled up with the Konoha Twelve and there wouldn’t be much physical danger to my person, at least until the invasion during the chuunin exams--Unless it came from my new grandfather.

Lost in my own thoughts, my hand reached out and, with all of the grace of an infant, I smacked the little boy on the back of the head in my wayward arm’s attempt to further examine his hair. Instead of crying immediately, Konohamaru’s face contorted into an even _angrier_ pineapple as his hand reached out to grab at my shorter hair and give it a good yank. As a toddler he was easily twice as coordinated as I was, his flail a much more purposeful swing than my initial clumsy arm flapping.

My only possible option, given my limited coordination, was to dodge by falling sideways from where I’d previously been propped up with a pillow behind me. Without true control I could feel the instinctual wail build in my chest as I neared the ground but never actually made contact. With the practiced speed of a jounin Auntie Chiyome had caught me before I could hit the ground and was lightly chastising both Konohamaru and me for our spat.

I heard the rough chuckle behind me but before I could roll myself over to look the laugh rumbled into a textured voice I _definitely_ remembered. “Looks like they’re rivals already, it must run in the family.”

The stare that greeted my own awed one was that of the third Hokage, smile lines crinkling on his aged face. Danzo stood beside him, and though I couldn’t help the tension I always felt in my gut at the sight of him, it was getting lighter. Maybe it was my infant’s brain, that only conceptualized the man with comfort warring with my older mind that knew him to be dangerous. It was still so jarring to know, in my mind and heart that the stoic old man who stared down at me with the barest of smiles was the biggest monster in Konoha’s borders.

“Moriko-chan made the initial strike and she dodged Konohamaru-kun’s returning blow, she’ll be a strong shinobi.”

The pleased hum to his words made my stomach drop, again I felt the bubbles of a sob forcing itself out of my throat. I didn’t _want_ him to be proud--I didn’t want Danzo seeing any potential in me, not if it meant I would be ripped from the new family I had and shoved headfirst into the dark dank life of a ROOT agent. My play-date with Konohamaru ended shortly after that, as my own wailing set the older boy into a peal of cries in the domino chain that only babies could achieve.

 

* * *

 

Chiyome and Chiyojo Shimura were the biggest constants in my life, as my official and unofficial guardian. Chiyome was my godmother, and of all people, Sarutobi Asuma was my godfather. Though my mother had been a few years older, the two of them had grown up together and were close friends before her death. He’d also been the one to introduce my parents, and according to Chiyojo that was a fact that Danzo was still bitter about.

Chiyojo talked a lot about Danzo being bitter about this or that, only to get shushed by Chiyome for being disrespectful. There was some kind of old tension there, and I was almost certain it had to do with the fact that Chiyome was a seasoned jounin and as well liked by Danzo as anyone appeared to be while Chiyojo was a career chuunin and bristled every time Danzo commented on that fact. Which seemed to be every time they interacted.

“He only treats me like this because I actually wanted to make a _difference_ in this village, not chuck kunai at everything that moves!”

For all that the sisters were twins and their faces identical, tan skin and gray eyes so commonly found in the Shimura, they both carried themselves with a completely different weight. Chiyome dressed in traditional clan colors, dour white and slate gray while Chiyojo wore either her Konoha blues or what basically amounted to a casual version of the same garb. Where Chiyome kept her hair closely cropped, easier to work with on missions, Chiyojo wore a braid that reached her mid-back that she let out to reveal riotous curls when she was home from teaching at the academy.

Chiyome rolled her eyes lightly at her sister as she reached for me, lifting me out of my crib and setting me on the floor to work on stretching exercises, “You mean like I do?”

“You know that’s not what I mean, I _knew_ that being an academy teacher was a thankless job but I didn’t expect to be actively shat on by my own family,” My eyes widened at the rant but Chiyome seemed unfazed, this must have been a familiar tirade just one I hadn’t been privy to previously, “His whole damn generation is like this too, they think that the academy is weak because their clans educated them but I don’t see any of them volunteering to teach the kids without some fucking clan to fall back on! This isn’t the warring clans period anymore, we have to consider the fact that some of our best and brightest _aren’t_ coming from clans anymore and they’ve got the academy to thank for that.”

Chiyome let her sister seethe for a few moments longer before she tossed out, “Language, Chiyojo, Moriko-chan is listening.” and proceeded to gently tug my limbs this way and that, I assumed it was to help flexibility for whenever they truly started training me--A day I still dreaded with every fiber of my being. It would come, inevitably it would come but I’d already resigned myself to that. All Shimura were loyal ninja to the village, but I wasn’t sure whether it was surprising or not that not all Shimura were loyal ninja to Danzo.


	2. Compartmentalize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy halloween folks! The next chapter will likely be delayed a bit as I'm going on vacation next week, however this one is extra long so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Special thanks to Romansche678 for betaing for me.

My first lesson with Danzo wasn’t actually as bad as I’d anticipated. It was even, well not _fun_ , but it was interesting. Chiyome was there, to help out with any demonstrations that Danzo’s alleged impairments wouldn’t allow him to demonstrate personally. He had been the one to train both Chiyome and Chiyojo, before they had been assigned teachers as genin. The way Chiyojo had mumbled under her breath about my upcoming training I’d been worried that it would have been more difficult but for all that it was definitely work and Danzo was a strict taskmaster, he didn’t seem to have expectations above what a two and a half year old could actually achieve.

I did my very best not to think about why he knew so much about the training milestones of children.

The fact of the matter was, I had to compartmentalize Danzo the Monster and Danzo the Grandfather. I hated how jarring it was, every time he did something so normal and I could barely respond. For now, I could get away with it with only gentle chidings about manners, but that wouldn’t last forever and I knew it. I could be a shy, daydreaming toddler at this age but it was clear that even from the much more relaxed Chiyojo my family had high expectations of me.

So over the course of my subsequent lessons I learned to ignore the baser instinct to flinch when Danzo gently tapped my toes with his cane to fix my kata stances or he tutted when I didn’t stand straight enough. It wasn’t as if he didn’t reprimand my every mistake, because there was no mistake small enough not to be rebuffed in his eyes, but he was just so patient.

Patient enough to take years to craft a scheme for power, but I ignored that thought.

“Moriko-chan, posture. From the beginning _again_ ,” Danzo’s voice was always effective at snapping me out of my thoughts, “Focus, inattentiveness in a shinobi is a deathwish.” His words were firm but there was no true steel behind them as he guided me through defensive kata. Once I moved through the entire set fifteen times he gave a soft nod towards the door and one of my cousins, Hangaku entered holding a tray with two cups of water and a plate of sliced apples. I couldn’t help the instant slouch of my shoulders at the sight of them but I hesitated despite my urge to shuffle over for the snacks.

With a small huff of effort, I straightened my shoulders again and brought my arms back into the position of my final kata before glancing back at Danzo. I hadn’t been dismissed and the thought of possibly having to go through the sets _again_ because I hadn’t properly finished overwhelmed my desire for a break. At my actions Danzo let out a pleased hum, “Very good, Moriko-chan. You have your mother’s work ethic.”

It was a compliment that had my eyes widening, Danzo didn’t often speak of my mother but when he did it was almost always in the context of training, or some trait or another I had in common with her that he saw potential in.

“Th-Thank you.” I stumbled through the words, a childish lisp had colored my speech since my first words and as of yet showed no signs of leaving. I still held my arms rigid, even with the compliment I hadn’t actually be told to relax. Another pleased nod was my reward as Danzo waved Hangaku forward, “That’s enough for today, come now Moriko-chan, sit with your Grandfather.”

_Finally_ given permission I practically fell over my own tired feet as I scurried closer and greedily took the glass of water Hangaku handed me. I savored the taste for several moments, nearly downing half the liquid in three large gulps before I heard the telltale ‘ _tutt_ ’ of my Grandfather’s disapproval. I couldn’t help but wilt slightly, I had done so well today to keep him pleased. Much more mindful of my manners in the wake of his wordless reprimand, I carefully set the glass down beside his and and then sat myself carefully at his side.

It had become tradition after training, to go over what my faults had been that day and what could be done to improve them. As usual it was mostly a lecture on keeping my form consistent and my thoughts from straying. I was getting better, and I showed promise, he was sure to explain to me but all that would be for nothing if it couldn’t be molded properly into a weapon worth using.

* * *

 

Less frequent than my training days with Grandfather were my bi weekly visits with my father. Every other Sunday my care was shifted from Chiyome to Chiyojo and she would bring me to a small house on the very edge of the Shimura grounds where my father lived. Shimura Yasu was an exceptionally sad man, but I couldn’t really blame him for it. The house always seemed so lonely when I was left there for the afternoon, even as Yasu filled the space with chatter.

He could have been a good single dad, if the clan had let him but he was only an adopted Shimura and therefore unfit to raise it’s heir. As things were, he treated me well when he did see me and he spent the majority of the time telling me about my mother. The only other person who had done so had been Danzo, but the two of them presented two very different sides of her. While Danzo spoke sparsely of a woman who had passed away in a fashion unbecoming of diligent and loyal shinobi, my father painted a very different, more colorful picture.

Danzo had told me she was a jounin’s jounin who had made a name for herself for performance above and beyond expectations, she possessed wind nature not terribly uncommon within our clan, and she’d been a signed summoner of the Shimura family contract of the dream eating Baku. I learned from Yasu that she was a woman who loved taiyaki but always burned her tongue because she couldn’t wait for it to cool before she ate it, that her favorite season was winter, and she’d moved out of the Shimura estate just after she’d made jounin but moved back after they’d gotten married.

I didn’t know much about life outside the Shimura estate, part of father’s agreement of visitation was that he was required to remain on Shimura land. The few times I’d left the estate it was always to visit the Sarutobi who made up the rest of the non-Shimura I knew. I barely knew what the village looked like except from memories from Before that felt like they got fuzzier the more I tried to remember them. Father sometimes talked of bringing me to play in one of Konoha’s parks or promised we’d go to the Sakura viewing festival next year. Given the melancholy tone his voice took on when he made such promises I think he knew they were just pretty lies, more to comfort himself than the toddler who, as far as he knew, could barely understand him and likely not remember his promises in a week.

When our time was up he always sent me home with some sort of gift, a paint set, a new stuffed animal, a bag of marbles, some that fit my young age and some that were clearly meant for me to use when I grew older. One Sunday near by third birthday he gave Chiyojo a picture of my mother to hang in my room, it seemed that my father was full of surreal little surprises. It was a picture from her chuunin promotion, smiling and waving at the camera her arm slung around the shoulder of none other than Danzo, both of them looking younger than I’d ever really considered they’d ever been. They looked so happy and even Danzo had the smallest crack of a smile crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

The truly loving way that father spoke of her combined with the fact that she had been able to wrangle what appeared to be a substantial amount of affection out of _Danzo_ , Shimura Takeko was a woman I wished I could have met. I felt the smallest bit guilty, that I was also the reason she wasn’t around to meet.

* * *

 

It was an odd statement to say I slept through the Uchiha massacre but frankly, that was what happened. In the body of a three year old, I still had trouble making myself properly understood half the time. Even if I’d _wanted_ to try and go against my Grandfather’s plan there wasn’t anything I was capable of doing. One minute I was tucked away for a late nap and the next Chiyome was there, pulling me out of bed and slipping my shoes on before we body-flickered to Hokage Tower.

I had no idea what was going on, Chiyome was utterly silent and her face so blank it may as well have been an ANBU mask as she carried me deeper through the halls of the tower. Eventually, we stopped before a door completely surrounded by a complicated seal array that had my eyebrows raising. Chiyome shifted me onto one hip in order to free her hand, which she bit ‘till it bled and proceeded to smear said blood against a seal on the door. There was no sound of locks unclicking but instead a sudden _woosh_ of what had to have been chakra as the door opened before us.

Inside the room were two ANBU agents flanking the doors, masks clean and white. Chiyome carried me straight past them, with only a small nod in their direction. In the corner of the room, a good defensible corner based upon the scattered furniture and desks, sat Konohamaru bundled in a blanket looking just as confused and bleary-eyed as I felt. A pale, dark-haired boy sat beside him, holding a kunai and staring straight ahead, but I couldn’t _quite_ place his face the way I knew Konohamaru’s.

Chiyome settled me down beside Konohamaru and tugged the blanket away from him just long enough to swaddle me in next to him. “Moriko-chan, I need to go and check on Grandfather, please be good for the nice ANBU-san.” I couldn’t do much besides nod as Konohamaru grumbled beside me and the strange pale boy remained completely silent but nodded lightly to my aunt.

I stayed there with Konohamaru for hours, a few more children I didn’t recognize were brought in but they were all older than us and kept away from the kiddie corner and it’s miniature silent sentinel. It was through their chatter that I finally put together exactly what was happening, even if they didn’t seem to understand it themselves.

“There’s been an _attack_ I saw the jounin signal and--” They fell silent when one of the ANBU agents pointedly glanced their way. It was still all the information I needed to put everything together--The massacre had happened and realizing that left me almost numb, it wasn’t as if I’d _forgotten_ but I’d also just never met a single Uchiha in my new life. That made sense, why would Danzo have allowed his vulnerable heir exposed to those be believed to be traitors but now I was faced with the reality that I would potentially _never_ meet an Uchiha.

Even considering Sasuke, our age gap was so wide there would be no reason to interact with him before he defected. Surely Itachi had fled the village some time earlier in the evening and there was no reason I could think of that I’d be exposed to a missing nin. Madara? God, I hoped I never had the misfortune to meet with him whenever his and my grandfather’s plans inevitably clashed.

A whole family, a whole _clan_ had died tonight on my grandfather’s orders.

Suppressing the urge to cry I burrowed deeper into the blanket I shared with Konohamaru, who didn’t seem to mind the intrusion into his space. The shivers that wracked my body were from the cold, from the poorly insulated and sparsely furnished room. If I cried it wasn’t me, it was the toddler’s body I was in, all instinct and childish hormones.

* * *

 

The thing about compartmentalizing was that sometimes you could delude yourself into to thinking you weren’t doing it.

In the wake of the massacre security within the clan heightened to the point that even I noticed. For the first time since I’d been six months old, Chiyome stopped taking missions and stayed by my side every waking moment, and probably my sleeping ones too. If for whatever reason she couldn’t be with me, I had a host of other bodyguards, all Shimura clan members and all at least jounin.

My world was expanding before my very eyes, and I did my best to ignore the fact that it had taken the deaths of many for it to happen. New cousins I’d only seen in passing became fixtures in my life. Cousin Kazama, a jounin perhaps a decade older than Chiyome and Chiyojo was my secondary bodyguard if ever Chiyome was unavailable. He was gifted with typical Shimura looks, dour gray, gray, and more gray but he was more openly emotive than Chiyome. A middle point between Chiyome and Chiyojo that felt like someplace I could see myself settling into.

I also saw less of Chiyojo, who was taking the loss of her students badly--and there was really no other word for it. I already knew about the woman’s soft spot for children, as I was soundly within it, but her grief was palpable. It was yet another thing for Grandfather to criticize.

Another thing that more time with Chiyome or any of my jounin bodyguards meant was, oddly enough, more time within the village. The heightened security detail combined with the fact that I was nearing academy age meant that while I was too young to be left completely unsupervised I was old enough to understand directions and tasks given. Thus, by age four I was assisting with errands for my cousins.

Mostly, this meant holding bags but sometimes it also meant sitting quietly with the other clan children while Chiyome spoke with clan leaders or representatives when Grandfather was too busy to see them. I met several more canon characters this way, if only briefly or in passing. I sat very quietly and drank tea with Hinata and Hanabi, I was given a pork bun by the akimichi matriarch before I was foisted off into their yard along with Chouji, and once Chiyome and I were given a stare that even clouded by sunglasses was cold enough to burn by Aburame Shibi accompanied by a rather confused one from Shino.

Still, I relished finally getting to actually see around Konoha and not just staying confined to the clan grounds.


	3. Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't quite what I wanted it to be but I don't think sitting on it any longer will improve it. Thanks to Klaelman for looking over a lot of my grammar in this one.

Like my father had suggested, I did end up going to the cherry blossoms festival, but unsurprisingly it wasn’t with him. I couldn’t be sure if going with Danzo was a calculated move on my grandfather’s part to prove a point to my father--that I was a child of the clan, not an outsider--or if he truly wanted to spend time with me. 

It was probably both.

What was surprising was the tagalong we acquired, besides the usual ANBU, possibly ROOT, guard who trailed behind Grandfather and I. Konohamaru had been delivered by a guard of his own to meet us at the festival. He was certainly happier to see me than Grandfather, though he afforded him a respectful, if somewhat sloppy, bow.

I could see the frown on his face when he looked at Grandfather and I, and all at once I felt rather guilty. Comparatively, Konohamaru almost never saw his grandfather even though they lived on the same estate. I saw Danzo every day, and spent hours with him, whether it be for training, the occasional game of shoji, or clan dinners. Of course, there were still days at a time where I only caught the barest glimpses of my Grandfather; however, he was still a proactive figure in my life--arguably more than Hiruzen was in Konohamaru’s. Having just recently started at the academy, he saw his grandfather even less, now that he had his own busy schedule to further conflict.

I did my best to resolutely not think of Danzo’s activities outside the Shimura clan, mostly for my own sanity but also so I could stop feeling guilty.

Having to come with the Shimura to the Sakura Viewing Festival was a poor substitute especially since, technically, the Hokage _would_ be here--but it would only be for a short speech. I’m sure it was hard for Hiruzen, to balance the village and his family especially when he’d never anticipated such a struggle years ago when he’d passed on the hat only to have it tossed back in his face with the death of his successor. Still, I felt worse for Konohamaru, who only wanted to spend time with his grandfather.

Even if we were a little over a year apart, I was still smaller than Konohamaru, and he seemed to enjoy acting the role of the older, more experienced--cousin? Maybe a brother, almost. It was odd to think about since he was such an important figure in my limited circle that perhaps I wasn’t quite so important to his. He had already started at the academy, so that meant he’d be ready to form the Konohamaru Corps soon.

I would miss him once he moved on to better things in canon, but I would help him while he was still around. There was something I could do, get his mind off his prepubescent brooding. Stepping forward, I tugged at the hem of his yukata sleeve. “Konohamaru-kun, could you win me a prize?”

It was a relief to watch his face shift from that of an embittered abandoned boy as he enthusiastically met my request with a bombastic answer.

“Of course I can, Mori-chan! I’m the best ninja around! What kind of prize do you want? The fish are the hardest but I could definitely win a fish--I could win _ten_ fish!” The little boy boasted as he snatched up my hand and tugged me forward. I heard a low sigh behind us and the telltale clack of Grandfather’s cane as he followed after us. I didn’t doubt that with Konohamaru’s stubbornness he certainly could eventually win me a fish, though likely not ten, but I worried about bringing one home.

Perhaps if it had been Chiyojo who’d escorted us--Or even Chiyome--with enough wheedling from Konohamaru and I, an argument could have been made to bring one home, but Danzo would likely consider a pet a waste of valuable time spent training or studying for my own upcoming enrollment in the academy.

“Can you win a pinwheel?” That seemed like a safer toy, maybe even something Grandfather would have gotten me himself--albeit from a vendor. He liked small, traditional trinkets, and I had plenty on display in my room. Usually, gifts from Chiyome when she went on long missions, her apology for leaving me with lesser cousins--and in her opinion lesser bodyguards--but a few were from Grandfather.

Now given something else to focus on--a mission, as it were--I could see Konohamaru visibly relax. “Of course! I’ll win the very best pinwheel at the festival!”

It took us a bit of time to find a booth which held my desired prize. In the end, it was a ring toss that had Konoharmaru and I pooling our allowances together for five rings. It was a civilian-run booth, and thus likely rigged, but even if we were pre-genin, we were clan pre-genin, we could manage at least a pinwheel. There was a reason most civilian booths had age limits for shinobi.

I watched Konohamaru put more care into his first two tosses than I would have expected, but it was good that he was gauging his throws before he got serious. Maybe it was because he was getting the prize for someone else that he worked so hard--he didn’t want to disappoint me. Unbelievably sweet but kind of defeated the point of my goal; I hadn’t wanted to put any pressure on him. We had enough ryo between the two of us for five more rings, ten more if we spent the money we had saved for snacks but I’d argued against that. I wanted to try taiyaki.

I was so engrossed in Konohamaru’s efforts that I didn’t notice Grandfather had encroached on my space until the instant his hand came to rest upon my shoulder, “You’re a thoughtful girl, Moriko-chan.” I stiffened, even though I knew it was the wrong thing to do, his hand felt more like a shackle than a comfort,  “Konohamaru-kun is a good ally, it’s good you take care of him.”

_Ally_ , not friend, was something that made my gut clench--I hadn’t done this for the reason Danzo would have. Did he think I did? I wasn’t manipulating Konohamaru, I was distracting him, wasn’t there a difference? I barely heard Konohamaru’s shout of victory as his last ring sailed through the air and hit its target, clinking around the glass bottle. I forced a small, shy smile onto my face as Konohamaru proudly presented me with my pinwheel. It was pretty, a shiny green with little Konoha symbols printed on it. Konohamaru’s smile was wider than it had been all night and once my pinwheel was safely in the hands of Grandfather the young Sarutobi grabbed my hand again and began dragging me towards the food stalls.

I wasn’t manipulating him. _I wasn’t_.

* * *

 

Sometimes I spent time with Grandfather and sometimes I had Meetings with Danzo. Any given interaction could be a struggle to determine which was which. Once I had thought I’d figured it out--there was a certain tone his voice took, like he was trained orator, when he spoke to me as a Village Elder compared to just Grandfather.

“This will be one of your greatest tools when you become a true shinobi, Moriko-chan.” I stared at the large scroll in awe--I’d heard stories of it before, the Shimura clan summoning contract. It seemed a bit wild to me, to be given a spot on that scroll so young but as heir it _was_ my rightful spot. I opened my mouth to speak but Grandfather canted his head slightly and immediately my mouth clamped shut, this was an honor and I understood that I would not-- _could not_ disturb it.

“Moriko-chan, you are a child of peacetime, but only a peace held together by the blood of your fellow shinobi. Do not ever forget this. When I was your age, I was already a genin ready to help my sensei defend the village. This was the first gift given to me when I displayed the power and will to defend Konoha.” With the surprising ease of man used to functioning with only one arm, Danzo unrolled the scroll with a dramatic snap. The unfurling scroll moved with such grace that it must have been assisted with chakra. Wind chakra, or simple control techniques beyond my current capabilities, I couldn’t be sure. The scroll fluttered quietly to the ground where I could better see it, though I strained somewhat to both examine the scroll while also keeping my respectful sitting posture in deference to my Grandfather’s presence.

“To sign this contract means that you are prepared to fight, and one day, die for this village, Moriko-chan. When you graduate from the academy, then you will place your name on this scroll as your mother did, and I before her, and my mother before me.”

It was spotting the most recent generations of signers that finally broke me from the strange spell of Grandfather’s speech. With shaking hands, I reached towards the names emblazened on the scrolls, the blood of my ancestors, the blood of my _mother_ , all one after the other upon it. For once, Grandfather made no move to stop my probing hands, instead reaching out and resting his own hand delicately on the same name where my own lingered.

_Shimura Takeko._

“Make her proud, Moriko-chan.”

* * *

 

My first days in the academy went by in a bit of a blur, I walked with Chiyojo to school every morning and stayed late in the afternoons doing my homework while she graded papers. She taught one of the classes above me, my teachers were Suzume-sensei and Daikoku-sensei. At first, I assumed Chiyojo was friends with Suzume-sensei as the latter often came to chat after school. However, after the first few weeks, I realized they weren’t _quite_ friends exactly, or at least not the way I’d assumed. I was pleasantly surprised to see Suzume-sensei gently brushing a stray hair out of Chiyojo’s face when they thought I was busy with my geography homework.

I was happy for Chiyojo, _someone_ in this family deserved to have a normal life.

My initial rankings in the academy were deemed acceptable. Of course, Chiyome and Chiyojo were sure to remind me that there was always room for improvement. The talk I had with Grandfather was, well it was roughly the same statement but with a much graver sentiment. I didn’t want to disappoint my aunts but I _couldn’t_ disappoint my Grandfather.

I worked hard in the academy, written work was easy, I had a high school education going for me even if it was rustier than I would have liked. The math was breathtakingly easy, to the point that Daikoku-sensei noticed enough to slip me a few geometry worksheets with a sly wink. Those were a bit more challenging, my memories of the subject foggier than simple multiplication but it was all basic trajectory and memorizing formulas.

I definitely enjoyed my geography lessons best though. Perhaps it was due to having been cooped up in the Shimura compound for so long, but learning about far-off countries and sweeping landscapes was fascinating. Konoha law wasn’t bad either since most of the topics were things that Grandfather had spoken with me about during our weekly shoji games.

Genjutsu was by far my worst subject, I was lucky all we discussed was the theory at the moment but I knew sooner or later I would have to tackle the subject at home and I just didn’t want to. Something about genjutsu just felt fundamentally _wrong_ to me, horribly upsetting in ways I found hard to describe. I had few things more closely guarded than the sanctity of my own mind--The idea of having it altered, twisted and manipulated and doing that to others made my stomach turn. I had no chance of becoming a genjutsu specialist but I vowed to learn enough that I could at least deconstruct them.

Ninjutsu and taijutsu were mostly tied for my second best subject with taijutsu just narrowly beating out the former. I had been drilled in it since I could walk, like any good clan heir. However, the one member of my class consistently beat me more often than not. Hanabi Hyuuga was someone I was familiar with, I had met her and her sister while attending Clan Business with Chiyome. However, as of late I hadn’t seen Hinata as often--which must have meant she had finally fallen out of favor with her clan.

We treated each other respectfully, as I treated most of my classmates but through a combination of my own introverted nature and my focus on my studies, I didn’t really make friends. I wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t lonely, but I’d been lonely for years, my isolation was just a little more self-imposed now. I just couldn’t stand the thought of befriending some child and accidentally bringing them to Danzo’s attention--Of being responsible for someone ending up in ROOT.

* * *

 

I wasn’t sure why I was surprised by it, of course Konohamaru had noticed my self-imposed exile among the other students. It just took some time until he managed to corner me about it during our shared lunch period. To his credit, he attempted to be subtle, but while Konohamaru was many things, _subtle_ was not one of them.

“Mori-chan, you can sit with your other friends if you want. I know I’m pretty cool and all but you don’t have to sit with me just ‘cause you’ve known me longest.”

I blinked slowly at him, setting my chopsticks down across my bento, “No, I like sitting with you.” I mumbled in reply, embarrassed at the fact that apparently, my attempts at quietly standing out of the spotlight had put me under an entirely different one.

“Ne, I know I’m pretty awesome but,” Konohamaru faltered for a moment, a bit of his bluster lessening as he glanced around and lowered his voice to less of a shout and almost a sort of conspiratorial whisper, “Mori-chan I know your grandpa’s real serious about your grades and stuff but it’s okay to have fun too, my Grandpa says that’s an important part of the academy--Making friends with future allies and stuff.”

A lump caught in my throat as Konohamaru reached out and took my hand in his. Sometimes it overwhelmed he how Konohamaru could be so intuitive--Maybe not with _everything_ but the kid was good at people. It must have been why he and Naruto got along so well, they were cut from the same cloth of brash yet compassionate.

“I-I’m not very good at it.” I confessed softly, because I wasn’t--I was so afraid all the time. Afraid that if I got close to someone outside the clan they would get hurt, I knew Konohamaru was safe, he had the Hokage and the Sarutobi clan to protect him. Even Danzo would fear the reprisal from going after a kage’s grandson, it would protect Konohamaru for years to come. I didn’t have that guarantee for anyone else.

Konohamaru squeezed my hand softly, though his voice took on it’s more boisterous tone, “That’s alright, because I’m the best at it--Moegi, Udon, and me are thinking of making this team, I know teams are supposed to be trios but you can be our...our junior member! You’re a year younger anyway, so it all works out!”

Just like that, I’d been adopted into the Konohamaru-corps. My hand still felt warm in Konohamaru’s grip and my heart felt a little lighter.


	4. Cope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so in the effort to start getting chapters out a wee bit faster, they're gonna start getting a little smaller. It just helps me to not sit on them as long.

“How have you been enjoying the academy, Moriko-chan?” The occasional evenings with Chiyome were nice, she'd been taking on more frequent overnight missions lately. Tonight, however, she was free and was spending her off time carefully looking over my homework since Chiyojo was having a night out. She’d said it was just a meet-up with her genin team but I _knew_ it was a date--though I don’t think anyone but Chiyome was supposed to know that but Chiyojo was too well-dressed for a simple team night. She looked so _pretty_ in a way that I hadn’t really considered her before, she wasn’t just my cousin and part-time keeper, she had a life outside the clan.

“I like history lessons, Konoha is really amazing.” The lessons I had received previously from Danzo were _skewed_ , granted it wasn’t as if the ones at the academy weren’t either but they were more palatable. Developed specifically for the consumption of children, instead of the more blatant political slant that Grandfather preferred. If I just sat back and relaxed, I could forget that I was slowly being desensitized to the horrors of war and gently pushed towards absolute loyalty.

Chiyome’s smile was warm even as her eyes lingered on my homework, sometimes Chiyome’s smiles didn’t reach her eyes. It was another thing I didn’t think I was supposed to know, and I was nearly certain it had to do with the fact that Chiyome was _definitely_ active ANBU. “It certainly is. What history are they reviewing right now?”

“We talked about the sannin today, how they defeated Hanzo all by themselves. I liked hearing about Tsunade, she’s the strongest Kunoichi ever.” And she was a _medic_ , just like my dad, who was probably one of the kindest people I knew. Even if she was a frontline fighter, dad always talked about combat medics like they were something _really_ special. Not just fighting to win but fighting to save the ones who’d fallen around them. People lived because they fought and healed and if I had to fight one day, and given my lot in life I knew that I would, the life of a combat medic just seemed _meaningful_.

The clack of a cane instantly brought my attention away from Chiyome, who seemed entirely nonplussed by the sudden intrusion into our space. I hadn’t even noticed Danzo walk into the room until he’d settled behind Chiyome, his free eye glancing over the homework she was checking. Grandfather did not seem terribly impressed by written work on good days, let alone when he had a look on his face that meant I should settle in for a lecture.

“The sannin are unfortunate aspects of Konoha’s history, potential wasted on those without any true loyalty to the village. Tsunade was a great medic, but in our village’s time of need, she abandoned us. There would be _many_ good people still alive in Konoha had she not fled like a coward.”

And that--It wasn’t _wrong_ . The Tsunade I _remembered_ had been a strong warrior, protective of her village and it’s people but the Tsunade who existed now in this current moment...she _wasn’t_ . She was gone and Konoha was worse off for it, I hadn’t been alive for the kyuubi attack but I _remembered_ it, remembered all the unnecessary deaths and maybe, just maybe if Tsunade had been here there wouldn’t have been so many.

Maybe if Tsunade had been here then my _mother_ \--

I hadn’t realized I was crying until a rough hand gently wiped the tears away, Grandfather had knelt down to my level. “No need for that, Moriko. _You_ will be a loyal shinobi of Konoha, stronger than any coward.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey there, Moriko-chan!”

Sarutobi Asuma was a _strange_ figure in my life, technically he was supposed to be an important one, he was my Godfather. However, I really only ever saw him in short stolen moments because as far as I’d observed Grandfather _really_ didn’t like him and unlike the many other things he disliked he’d never actually grumbled out a reason why, “Me and my team are gonna be watching after you for a little while today.”

I couldn’t help but blink owlishly up at him--I’d _never_ had a babysitter outside the Shimura clan. Besides that, I was supposed to visit my dad today and we’d been given _two_ extra hours because he’d be going on a mission tomorrow and wasn’t sure when he’d be back.

“Are--Are you going to bring me over to Dad’s house?”

The slight falter in his smile was enough to tell me that something was off, an escort to Dad’s house was an increasingly smaller event lately. Since I’d started at the academy _Chiyome_ didn’t even walk me anymore and she was downright _obsessive_ when it came to my safety. I couldn’t go out into the village on my own but I was finally starting to have free reign within the estate. I didn’t _need_ an escort--Which likely meant Team Ten _weren’t_ my escort.

“Ah, that’s thing, Moriko-chan. See, Yasu--Your dad hired us because he had to leave early for his mission and he’s real sorry he didn’t get to say goodbye, so we’re gonna do something fun, okay?”

My chest tightened because it _wasn’t_ okay, I barely got to see my dad already without him taking weeks-long missions. Just a few hours every other week and _maybe_ once more if Chiyojo brought me out for lunch during my academy break and Dad had time. I just barely kept the upset churning in my chest from blistering into actual tears as I nodded softly, “O-Okay.”

The three children behind him seemed flustered by the sudden potential for waterworks as Asuma stood up and began to usher them towards me. “Alright, Moriko-chan this is my genin team. Chouji-kun, Ino-chan, and Shikamaru-kun, meet Moriko-chan.” The three gave me a similar enough stare that I was giving them, albeit a less watery one, stupid children’s hormones.

Suddenly Ino--I remembered, heiress and rival and bossy--elbowed Shikamaru--Smart, smarter than anyone--closer towards me I could just _barely_ hear their frantic whispers back and forth, “Shikamaru, _you_ have experience--Figure out how to make her feel better.”

“That doesn’t even _count,_ we’re the same age.”

“It’s close enough, we can’t just let a little girl cry!”

My eyes ping-ponged back and forth between the two, a sort of dazed feeling settling in my stomach, under the heavy feeling in my chest as I tried to breathe evenly. They taught breathing exercises in the academy, so you could stay calm during tough missions. I didn’t really think they were supposed to be applied to missing your dad too much but it was the main thing keeping me together right now. I hiccuped lightly, without meaning to, there were no tears yet but the breathing exercise just wasn’t _working_ and Ino and Shikamaru were getting _louder_ , hissing back and forth to the point that Asuma had settled his hands on their shoulders to separate them. I didn’t _want_ to be the reason for a fight, I just wanted my _dad_.

Before the tangled knot pulling at my insides could burst along with my tear ducts, the larger boy--Chouji, he was a _butterfly_ \--ducked down into my field of vision. One hand held himself balanced in his crouch, the other one held out a brightly colored snack bag, like I’d seen in other kids lunches at the academy but I wasn’t allowed to have.

“Sorry about missing your Dad, mine goes on missions too and sometimes it can get lonely. Chip?”

I took a steady breath, and I took a potato chip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mori has officially met team 10 and they'll be in the next chapter as well! The first little hint of Shikako's in here if you look to spot it, given the change in update length Shikako's actual appearance is a bit delayed but more ripples of her will start filtering into Mori's life soon.


End file.
